


Curious Sensation

by Hyacinthium



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Adulthood, Alternate Universe - Hope's Peak Academy (Dangan Ronpa), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Humor, Frottage, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, M/M, Sexual Humor, Smut, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 10:40:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20290108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyacinthium/pseuds/Hyacinthium
Summary: Of all the things that Ouma Kokichi has never expected, which is actually a small list, the following combination is a few:1, Finally trying to accept his tickling kink but ending up finding Shinguuji Korekiyo moonlighting as a Dom in a BDSM dungeon, the hard first hand account way. Also BDSM dungeons are aesthetic- but only in pictures.2, Finally realizing that Shinguuji Korekiyo might not be boring after all.3, Finally understanding that guys who wear lipstick, and talk in depth about mummified remains, might be hot.But only a little bit hot, Kokichi swears.





	Curious Sensation

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah I have no excuse 
> 
> You're welcome, shinou fans. There's a dozen of us but you know twelve is a great number let's keep it up. 
> 
> Anyway Kokichi here... doesn't get bdsm so prepare for him and his deer in headlights reaction to the bdsm dungeon lololol. Literally it's ( i just wants to be tickled why is there handcuffs Oh my god is that a WHIP OH NO OH NO) but Kokichi. This is. A humorous fic.

There's a very large problem that is actually an amalgamation of related problems- and it belongs to Ouma Kokichi.

First, there's the fact that he's finally accepting his inner freak. Not even the innovative and innocent kind of freak either. This tier of freak is entirely different from covering each inch of Momota's dorm room with fake dead crickets. An act that, he must add, was just as horrific for Kokichi too. 

Also it was a dare from Momota himself, and high-school era Kokichi couldn't possibly just back down- so fake dead cricket carpet it was.

Secondly and most importantly, Kokichi is seated in a waiting room. A very special one that means he has screwed himself over. There is no end to the embarrassment or shame. Unenforceable perhaps, but Kokichi can't say his brain isn't smart enough to make him go full hermit due to stress. It turns out that adulthood and self awareness are bad combinations. 

Like for instance how they can make just one mere professional asshole, Ouma Kokichi, decide to make an appointment at a BDSM dungeon.

Kokichi stares down at his limp hands. He idly wonders how one goes from 'I'm sixteen years old and that's fucking gross Iruma' to 'Oh gawd Miu I think I like tickling' and then; Well maybe I should go for it before I die. And of course Miu, in all her stupid kink wisdom, would chug her vodka before giving him the driest look. Nothing was said then and Kokichi sure as hell isn't talking now. 

What is he going to talk to anyway? The fern to his right? The sweaty looking otaku to his left, looking like the embodiment of how Saihara's brother looks when talking about his stupid visual novels? Himself? 

Fuck that.

He's quite frankly done talking to himself about anything, ever. So Kokichi continues to pinch at his trousers instead. If only his brain would shut the fuck up, but that's something he gave up on at age twenty-five. Now there's only the blissful hell of accepting endlessly over thinking about even scrambled eggs. Oh the horror- that teenage Kokichi would not only cry but likewise want to commit seppuku at the sight of Kokichi-at-twenty-seven. Graduate from Hope's Peak and slowly become a tickle based degenerate.

The waiting room has a deep burgundy carpeting. Charcoal black and plush seating, soft blue mood lighting, and a just barely tastefully red-pink wallpaper. So it pretty much looks a bit purple all around. Fitting his aesthetic, which is part of why Kokichi picked this place. How else, honestly, is a man supposed to find the perfect dungeon. It isn't even a question from start to finish. 

Actually, he picked it based on how unlikely going would injure or kill him.

Good aesthetic choices just sealed the deal.

Very convenient ways to judge a kink based business. All you need to do is wave some money around and find out how many injuries and deaths have occurred. Kokichi twitches, eyes drifting over a minimalist art piece depicting a Dom and Domme. Truly the duality of man, as in the ye old sense of man, but he prefers the somewhat more garish dildo butterflies that Miu buys from online artists. 

Conversation pieces are always best when they make the visitors blue screen.

He can remember her pushing a frozen Amami towards her collection- laughing as the man stared wide eyed at the hanging abominations. Look at that you cuckold, she had jeered, not even a genius like me could design such fucking masterpieces. And Kokichi had in that moment accepted that maybe his problems stem from actually becoming friends with an unrepentant mega slut.

In a professional BDSM dungeon. 

As one must, eventually.

God, Kokichi mentally murmurs with all the force of a man who shall never see heaven.

From up above him comes a loud yet subtle beep. Afterwards, "Mister Akutagawa may now enter the throne room for his session."

Kokichi's throat just barely avoids making a self-strangulation noise. He's glad about that, considering his long history of murderous people trying to squeeze the life out of him. Teen assassins with poor self-control really should get way more therapy than they do jobs. Lingering, the man thins his lips before hoisting himself up and ignoring the thumbs-up from the otaku.

The room should be a nice throne room by virtue of being purple. Completely unironic this time- Kokichi totally picked that room because of the aesthetics. It's not as if tickling is dependent on anything besides itself. 

He walks at a brisk pace until spotting the right door, numbered and with a throne pictured, to which he scolds himself. Kokichi has no need to be tensed up like this. All that will happen is tickling for fucks safe. Nothing else and not super overt bullshit. Just the tickling... 

"Oh for fucks sake, there's a classical cross in here? What the fuck is that chair, what's the point of a hole in the seat?" Kokichi mutters the second he peeks inside. "What the fuck."

No intimidation, absolutely no int- there's a fucking human shaped cage styled after a torture device near the throne.

Kokichi slowly enters the room, closes the door, and promptly spends a solid minute lowering the extremely pointless Iron Maiden Knockoff onto the ground. Just in case and because fuck that. He'll lift it before he leaves.

By the time Kokichi is sitting on the throne he has to admit it. He doesn't understand BDSM in the slightest. At least the throne is more comfortable though. Even it is has the odd aesthetic choices of what appears to be wrist rests. And ankle rests. Still, they're padded so Kokichi can't actually complain.

It takes him around five minutes and some fiddling to realize that the padded resting things are actually padded restraints.

"What am I doing. Why am I stupid. How could I talk myself into this?" he asks the ceiling with a bored expression. If only his desired tickle only kink dungeon had existed. Or maybe he should open one, a place for innocent tickle enthusiasts who just want to have fun. Kokichi muses over the idea and deems that wording a bit too creepy to work out.

"I apologize for the wait, and I do so hope that the ambiance has assisted... You. Ah," a disturbingly familiar voice says. 

Kokichi looks over at his Dom for the night. 

"Oh for fucks sake!"

"It is likewise a treasure to see you in this exhibition of human desire," Shinguuji Korekiyo, Ultimate Anthropologist, dryly remarks. His normally impassive yellow eyes look remarkably emotional. Why, Kokichi finds that they almost look confused.

Two pale hands cover Kokichi's head as he groans, eyes screwing up while he flops over the side of his freaky bondage throne. He aggressively twirls well maintained hair and wonders if the strands will start flying away like in high-school. God, he doesn't want to remember that time of his life. Completely awful, so much not actually regrets, and why the fuck is Shinguuji working in a fucking sex dungeon-

"Ouma-kun appears to be having quite the mental health moment. Should I return later?"

Purple eyes glance over the other man, and his leather corset. Kokichi blinks innocently, "You know, the whole point of this is anonymity? Right? I'd like to trade you in for a new model. Nice haircut though, looks very chic."

Shinguuji sighs and rubs his forehead with bandaged fingers. At least those have only changed from white to black. Narrowed eyes dart across what seems like a solid mix of guy-gal BDSM... Wearables. Fitting for Shinguuji, even if his hair is only just below his chin now. Kokichi likewise notes much less of that inherent aura of 'I own haunted dolls'.

"I see that you have changed furniture placement."

"Are you really going to ask why I allowed your Iron Maiden to take a nap? What kind of employer are you- poor thing told me she hadn't been off her feet for years!"

One well wrapped hand raises to cup a jaw, one likewise covered. Shinguuji stares unabashed at Kokichi's graceless slouch. He returns the stare with nonchalant disobedience, which should be expected given his near debriefing to the receptionist. Dominance and submission isn't at all why the man is here. Neither is anything else. 

"So you don't like bondage?"

Kokichi raises an eyebrow, "Of course not. Why the fuck would I?" 

Yellow eyes squint in a way far more expressive than Kokichi has ever expected. Shinguuji tilts his head slightly, almost concerned, and then he hums. The man glances at Kokichi's somewhat flamboyantly colored clothing. Another curious squint. Kokichi has to acknowledge that he's rather bored now. Maybe he'll just go home with no tickling. 

"Forgive me if I am being rude... But you do know that you wore a bondage belt to school each day, yes?" his former classmate gently asks.

"Please do the world a favor and learn about fashion," Kokichi groans. "You don't own the aesthetic of the D-ring." 

"Ah. "

God damn it Shinguuji, but Kokichi doesn't say that.

Either way, he's thoroughly enjoyed his time and must fortunately flee now. Darn and phooey that Kokichi must again not fulfill his fetish. The man gleefully brushes himself off and promises to never try this again for at least a year. Who is he to deny such an obvious sign-

"But I suppose that it is good. Your growth as a person, that is, in that you are no longer so determined to practice meaningless repression," says an almost proud voice paired with a soft nod, as if Shinguuji had ever not been the creepy bean pole just within Kokichi's peripheral vision.

Kokichi pauses mid lurch and gradually stares at the Anthropologist-Who-Is-A-Dom. Sweetly and calmly he ponders aloud, "And what exactly does mister incest mean by that."

Instant anger. 

"Ouma-kun should understand more than anyone that Iruma's horrid assumptions on," one slight breath, "My motivations behind caring for my, now healthy but once, debilitatingly ill older sister has and had nothing to do with sexual or romantic idealization."

"How 'bout the serial killing?" 

"Are you absolutely certain that you are not sadistic in addition to dependant on tickling to achieve orgasm?"

"Fuck you too," Kokichi huffs, "But yeah, this is awkward as fuck. So I'm going to leave! Although suuuure, it turns out that I'm capable of getting too tired to bother. Congrats on knowing my dark and dirty secret. Tickling makes me nut."

The idea of saying it out loud has always been different. Kokichi is more partial to envisioning it as a way to gloat. As if to tell the hypothetical other person that their kinks are peasant tier in comparison. Bondage? Ha, well Kokichi likes tickling in a sexual way! Except that just now has solidly ruined that reveal. He just forfeited the pride of managing to dance around his exact fetish with the receptionist too. 

Direct statements are Kokichi's pet peeve for sure. 

Yellow eyes squint at the man, Korekiyo further tilting his head in what seems to be pure confusion. The man and his mask both frown, "Tickling is far from a troubling act. I do not believe that it is the shameful kink you-" 

"Oh come on!" 

"Cannibalism is far worse on the average scale of judgement," Korekiyo quite literally points out, towards the ceiling, "Yet I have seen both actual cannibalism and scenes made to emulate cannibalism. Via the methods and belief systems displayed within the BDSM, I may put forth that the later can be done in a manner that isn't harmful- Thus in my own viewing I can say that, as a kink, one can certainly do no harm whilst still finding fulfillment in the scope of their potentially unfortunate fetish-"

Kokichi sighs and walks towards the door. 

"And you do not actually care enough to listen. Very well," the Ultimate Anthropologist murmurs.

Which is hopefully the last that Kokichi will ever hear from him. The man makes a brisk journey out and away from the dungeon. He pays with a tip, with a smile, but knows that he's never going to try this again. So what if orgasm is difficult- Kokichi isn't so dull as to give in. 

He can totally beat his fetish. 

Two months later has proven that Kokichi is actually very, very stupid. He cannot beat his fetish.

Kokichi savagely sips at a sugarless latte, filling his corner of some mundane cafe with strange blurbles. Dull decor fills his gaze with no mercy. It's so fucking neutral in here, the man seethes while blowing bubbles into liquid and foam. The rugs are brown and the seats are black- the walls are white, furniture sleek, and the paintings are gray geometric designs; Kokichi is in a modern dump of a high end establishment. 

God damn, he feels depressed just sitting here.

But he has an image to uphold. Which means, sadly, that Ouma Kokichi must occasionally do something as mind-numbingly dull as this. Going to a wasteful venue just to drink wastefully good yet disgustingly unnecessary gourmet coffee. It's probably made from the beans found in some dead and exploited animals. 

At least he isn't being joined by any of his God awful coworkers. 

He should have decided to become a detective instead of an actual bigwig. Then Kokichi's days would be spent messing with people who are hopefully similar to Saihara. Amazing to tease and somehow thoughtful, the object of his fleeting yet reoccurring crushes. Or maybe Kokichi should have worked with space stuff. Shit, actually the man is suddenly remembering how thirsty he was for affection back then.

"Fuck high-school," Kokichi mutters into his now cooled coffee, eyes staring at the reflection waiting just past a porcelain rim. The golden design is probably real gold too. Excessive.

Delicate curves may to resemble waves. Kokichi wonders what the price would be if he dropped it. Not that he'd be pressed to pay, since he has officially sold his soul to capitalism. Kokichi chuckles and begins to actually drink his ruined latte. The standard leaf is far gone from his mouth now. Whatever artisanal and craftsmanship imbued quality this drink had is gone. Likewise, Kokichi can't help but appreciate it more now. 

Up until Shinguuji Korekiyo waltzes into the cafe, orders something, and spots Kokichi in his ugly work clothing. 

Purple eyes stare dead ahead at the ceiling, and Kokichi mourns the death of his childhood self- who would never be caught dead in a boring navy suit.

"My," the once local cryptid politely says once he has his... 

"What the fuck did you order?" Kokichi asks while staring at a mound of whipped cream, cocoa powder, caramel and cinnamon with a sprinkle of chopped almonds. 

Korekiyo demurely bows his head and elegantly removes his mask. A spoonful of the mound disappears behind gold painted lips. Whatever the sugar content of that thing is- Kokichi slurps up his comfortingly bitter caffeine. Maybe Korekiyo, Shinguuji, has lightened up since his sister being pronounced not dying.

Shinguuji hums thoughtfully,"I am attempting to fully experience the 'basic' life style as spoken of by those who identify under that label. This means buying prohibitively uncoffee filled coffee based beverages."

Of all the possible reactions to use, Kokichi decides to laugh. Loudly and from his guts too. No respect or mind paid to his fellow patrons. The man's eyes squeeze shut while he imagines Shinguuji with a dozen different over bought items. All because of, clearly, the other man scrolling through twitter and seeing some tweets about how sakura frappuccino season is returning. 

Narrow eyes close while the two of them end up drinking in silence. Kokichi knows that he has off for the rest of today, but he's anxious. Having to sit in an almost comfortable quiet with Shinguuji is awful. Truly, absolutely, and undeniably awful. 

"You know that no one ever listened to Iruma, right?" he ends up stating. A question, but only if you're an eavesdropping asshat. "We all knew she was a living shitpost the moment we smelled her. I mean, yeah you were creepy as fuck but... Mostly because you kept talking about ripping out nerves-"

"Guilt over your continual association with Iruma Miu is not necessary. That said, I am enjoying your growth as a human being."

"Fuck you."

Kokichi looks away and into his empty cup. It's not even about that, really, but if Shinguuji wants to hear it that way then whatever. They both have better things to do in the end. Shinguuji probably has to go stomp a man who is addicted to the smell of rugs. How else can one slam their nostrils into that fibrous and soft flooring goodness?

"I have problems. But! Unlike certain people I can name," he coughs to clear his throat and finds those yellow eyes giving him the most blank stare to exist. "Look, I'm working on it."

More of that dry stare locks onto and meets Kokichi's own. Both of them seem to belong to the category of stubborn. Or, perhaps, they're more accurately called prideful. Neither men have ever been friends. Shinguuji was too off-putting and serious. Meanwhile, Kokichi was too annoying and quite honestly toxic to be around. He himself is surprised that said horrible collection of horribleness ever died down. 

Now, Kokichi is merely an asshole instead of a destructive asshole. 

It's a huge step up and he is, honestly, very proud of himself for not graduating as a paranoid verbal shitstain made manifest. Not that Kokichi isn't still paranoid or verbal. He's just slightly like of a shit stain now. So the Ultimate Supreme Leader will make a small play. Just to show off that he's a bit less annoying.

"Seeing you again has been an overall calm experience," Kokichi's former classmate says. Shinguuji stands up while brushing that oddly short hair behind his ears. 

"The first day I wanted to ask you about stories, but you got so pissed at Momota that you gave a detailed breakdown on how he'd be embalmed by Ancient Egyptians. So I avoided you."

Dark blue eyebrows raise far, far, up towards Shinguuji's hairline. Then those shimmering lips just smile. Shinguuji seats himself once more and ponders his defeated monster-coffee. Chuckling, the man ends up removing his mask entirely. It goes into a small purse without a hint of ceremony.

An almost kind expression is on that usually impassive face. Kokichi reminds himself that his memories are outdated.

Gentle laughter fills their small space. Kokichi's suit itches at the sound, but he finds it not unpleasant. The other man brings just thumb and pointer finger to his chin. It seems as though Shinguuji is considering something. It's an opportunity to gulp down what little coffee is left, quickly, and Kokichi does so with little care for the taste. 

"Far from conductive towards building a friendly relationship. It is unfortunate that so many Ultimates are ill adjusted in youth," Shinguuji eventually states. 

Kokichi just snorts at the unsubtle self assessment and sets his coffee back onto glass table. He's momentarily displeased at how clear and clean it is. The cafe isn't getting a return visit from him. Such a sterile and boorish venue will end up causing the man a headache. Eyes drift back up to Shinguuji, but they're growing heavy from stress and exhaustion. 

"I probably would have hassled you for interesting stories. Then you would have given me my own personal death threat anyway!" he cheers, a dry smirk on his face and his hands palm up in the air. Theatrics are ever his strong point. Someone like an Ultimate Supreme Leader needs to know all the tricks in the book. 

Of course, Kokichi isn't going to bother using anything with Shinguuji. It would be pointless to treat the other Ultimate the same way that he treats opportunities. People like businessmen, political figures, and more; Shinguuji doesn't really have that kind of presence. Not when it comes to Kokichi's current line of work.

The two of them linger in the cafe either way. Lukewarm reminiscence isn't too bad when both people involved were assholes, and are now self aware assholes. Kokichi's own personal takeaway is that at the least. As for Shinguuji, the other man takes some minor questions in stride and even asks them right back. It's almost refreshing to be asked something like that. 

"Am I, aren't I, for now I'm not in a place to relax and look into it. Introspection can come after more therapy," the Ultimate Supreme Leader sighs with a pout.

Shinguuji smiles rather genuinely at that. Well, Kokichi always likes the way that gold looks. He still gets the feeling that his occasional staring at his former classmate's lips might be... 

Contact information is exchanged with a mutual politeness. They bow slightly and trade cards, Kokichi having one of somewhat better quality. Aesthetics is definitely an area where Shinguuji wins though. It seems as though the other man also works at a museum. Kokichi finds himself eyeing the name profusely. 

Even when he's heading back to his apartment too. The man is a big believer in balancing work, overwork, and play. Pale fingers rub at a smooth card, Kokichi's eyes looking past his color riot decor and towards the window. Glass from floor to ceiling reveals to him the city itself.

His eyes narrow, his lips curl, "Looks like I'll be bothering you for stories after all, Shin~guujiiii-chan."

Months pass in a haze of anything from work to taking walks around exhibits. Quite a bit of it is as boring as expected, at least in general. The exhibit on minerals and gemstones provides some natural replay value. Kokichi is nothing if not a humanized magpie. Getting to crash on Shinguuji's precious main job is likewise entertaining. 

If nothing else, it's something to do besides playing at corporate-political warfare. 

Kokichi does have to admit that half the draw is getting to dress casually. Just shrugging on his now unfamiliar t-shirts is amazing. When did he buy a shirt this soft- and it's honestly pathetic too. He feels like he's unearthing someone else's clothing. Perhaps he really has become some kind of reptilian. 

"I can assure you that reptilians are not actually real," Shinguuji ends up saying once, staring right at Kokichi's cargo shorts and obnoxious button-down. "Though I... Find your drunken. Hm. Your drunken sunglass wearing flamingo shirt to be a concern."

Which really did signal the end of that outing. Kokichi will never tolerate such pointed rudeness. No matter how valid the worry, or fashionable the person, there's no way in hell he'll accept criticism. An Ultimate Supreme Leader wears whatever he deserves. 

Deserves also meaning desires.

Bottom line though; Kokichi can almost call Shinguuji a friend of his. Rather outlandish considering everything. Miu has never been great at shutting the fuck up, and Kokichi has always been great at both befriending and antagonizing her. He can't call himself innocent even if he never directly contributed to Shinguuji's bullying. At least, he never really started anything or majorly contributed. 

Shinguuji's still present spooky horror vibe used to be way worse. There's no point in going ham on pissing off someone like that. Better off sticking to Momota was Kokichi's near exact logic. But then Harukawa turned out to be an assassin so, to fully describe all the hindsight, Hope's Peak actually fucking sucked.

Kokichi decides to spruce up his very nice office, and smugly reroutes all questions.

Learning that so many people have forgotten Kokichi's mischievous past is interesting. In that deeply personal and professionally hilarious way. How could they, the man laughs to himself. So he nonchalantly decides to let the tricks filter through. Kokichi just hasn't allowed himself to have fun lately. 

If fun includes harmless pranks like fake spiders glued to bathroom ceilings... 

Well shit, Kokichi isn't going to rat on himself. He does however buy new pants for the one guy. Unlucky doesn't even begin to describe being under a huge plastic spider the moment it falls. A lack of actually ruined pants just makes the gift funny too.

Eventually all their meetings end up circling around. Their as in Shinguuji and Kokichi, meetings as in the fact that the two men are pretty much friends. Kokichi will never say it out loud though. Not unless he's drunk and feeling particularly surreal. Shinguuji and his creepy haunted doll tier hair, a friend? Yet another thing that the Ultimate Supreme Leader would have balked at years ago. 

Years ago actually means months ago, but Kokichi isn't counting. He's too busy squinting at his sparkly purple bunny slippers. Maybe the man should text Shinguuji. Get their asses to a bar or a coffee shop the moment Kokichi can escape this gross minimalist office. The bobble heads are not nearly enough. 

Purple eyes glare at a smug computer monitor. 

Not even alive, and yet here it is- mocking Kokichi from nothing more than a slight tilt.

Shinguuji's last sent text is an in depth review of a monster. Yes, a God damn abomination of sugar and dairy. One of those 'frappuccino' things that Kokichi has been tricked into drinking far too often. It must be a sign of evil, to turn coffee into some display of turquoise peach flavored whipped cream topped- sparkly candy devoured madness. 

He texts Shinguuji a very simple question: Do you think it would be hilarious to make me drink that one? 

Yes is an instant reply. 

Moments are special little things. They're short yet ultimately imprecise slices of time. Like scenes or important events which occur in flashes. Kokichi himself considers 'moments' to be like fleeting turning points. In this particular moment, one resulting after many extremely unlikely moments, he feels trapped in certainty.

It just isn't until sitting down that Kokichi accepts it. 

"Well, I suggest that you begin your endeavors. It is quite the rich beverage," Shinguuji demurely lowers his face mask. Today's lipstick is a verdant green, matching short yet elegant fingernails. "Though that you have offered to drink it by yourself is rare. Are you perhaps warming to such things?" 

Kokichi grimaces at his 'such things' and grunts, "I ate enough sugar when I was even smaller, and thought it was hilarious to act like meat caramels were my favorite snack."

Dark hair is brushed behind a pale ear. Shinguuji takes a nonchalant sip of his own satanic liqui-hellspawn. Then, once finished, he states a very true fact, "Ouma-kun says that and yet still consumes the exact same brand. You left wrappers in my car last week."

"Only a few. It's a serious problem, okay?" 

"Yes indeed… what with you once having shoved ten into your mouth at once."

The man isn't going to survive this. He can only hold up for so long, and eventually he'll fall. It's inevitable that Kokichi will end up inflicted with The Feelings. Full throttle, locked and loaded, this mess of turquoise peach is a Herald of Doom. Shinguuji is going to blink at him the way Gonta would stare at his disgusting huntsman spiders. Absolutely enthralled. 

Except that Shinguuji won't have an inch of affection. 

Peach sugar with a hint of coffee is brutally slurped up, Kokichi's gaze sliding towards the display case. He hates things that are too sweet. They're always such boring foods. As if mountains of flavors and sugars are what makes something good. Food itself is useless it's both delicious and interesting. 

Really, that's how the whole world works- but Kokichi is an adult now. 

Boring things are necessary. 

A person has to live shackled by societal limitations, eventually, which Kokichi hates. He's already had enough seriousness for eight hundred years. Which is exactly why this stage of his life is temporary. Living as some boring bastard moving up the importance ladder is death. 

Kokichi approaches each aspect of his life with that kind of thought. Within his mind is the mantra of, 'I'd rather die than be bored!', and the man has spent his life cultivating a moral code to temper it. 

His straw fills the air with the most annoying sound possible. Purple eyes linger now on those lips again, and Kokichi can finally admit that he loves their many hues. Make up is far from Kokichi's expertise or specialty. All he knows is that Shinguuji manages to make neons and blacks look good. Often at the same time, like art, and that's rather intriguing for some folklore fanboy to do. 

Dating is not exempt from his world view. Ultimates are never normal, and most people can thus never hope to be as fun. 

Shinguuji is probably one of the more interesting people that Kokichi still knows. And the other man is most likely not secretly a freaky serial killer. Being able to verify that is always a bonus. Kokichi has never been better at reading people. 

Unless the subject is romance. 

"I've been scaring the hell out of people at work lately," is what Kokichi brings up as they leave. "Your contributions are much appreciated, by the way."

One of those soft hums, "To hear that you have regained your will to laugh is uplifting. Indeed, I suppose that it's beautiful as well. Hopefully you have chosen to be… kind."

Laugh.

Kokichi glances over at his companion and mentally rewinds. It's not like they've just forgotten about that BDSM sex dungeon held in an office building. Hell, they've even had conversations before. Very dry and somewhat drunk ones. Now though- Shinguuji meets Kokichi's gaze and then his eyes crinkle. Just as they do whenever the man smiles. 

If it turns out that Shinguuji has developed an interest then Kokichi is going to riot. 

"Did you just realize that I've been flirting with you?"

"God fucking damn it!" Kokichi snarls, motionless while glaring at his somehow mutual crush. He's an adult but here he is. Puffed up while practically spitting at human bean pole. Of course Shinguuji would be the worst possible flirt. 

Shinguuji clears his throat and fiddling with his mask, "I have to date made many attempts… for instance, the private tour of the jewelry related exhibits. The mummies, and all the outings to strange restaurants with strange foods. As well as-" 

"The strawberry flavored squid curry wasn't strange. It was sublime!"

Yellow eyes blink slowly as Shinguuji's brain processes that. It seems like there's no rebuke, and Kokichi is fine with that. He wants to fume in peace while standing in the middle of sidewalk. There's no way that he'll budge, not to anyone, so instead he crosses his arms. All chance at making some romantic confession has been stolen. 

And isn't that just interesting? 

"Very well. Ouma-kun, I have a romantic and sexual interest in you. You are unfortunately still somewhat repressed in regards to-"

Kokichi is tired of acting like a Big Responsible Grown-up. He's staring at this prim and proper man dressed up in lowkey j-rock, high key fashionable, clothing and thinking; I want to rip that half there skirt thing off of you. Right after would be the pants too. All of which is not what a CEO should be doing. 

"Shut the fuck up and kiss me." 

Afterwards is a rush with, I of course carry protection with me at all times but, wherein one moment they're walking. The next moment is the exact opposite though, Kokichi pressing Shinguuji against a wall. It might be the other man's ever changing apartment. Smells like him and his various items of the very old persuasion. Not that Kokichi actually cares. He's far more interested in the feeling of hands on his waist. 

He's standing up on his sock clad tip toes like an idiot. Desperately trying to grab himself more attention, more of that pleasant feeling, allowing his clothing to become disheveled. Kokichi's lips and tongue follow through while Shinguuji leans into him. Everything is getting messy with saliva as they continue. It's hot- both the temperature and the effect. Grabbing that mask and getting to taste. 

Lipstick tastes weird and feels even stranger when it sticks to skin, Kokichi discovers. Peach sugar tastes much better when Kokichi kissing someone. He appreciates that finding as well. 

Two hands gently rub their ways up to the man's sides. Kokichi wiggles even when his clothing dampens the sensation. 

"God, you're right on target huh? Shinguuji-chan is like a sniper! Targeting my kink," the man snorts. He licks his lips and rests a hand on one thin shoulder. Kokichi soon smirks right up at his perhaps one time lover. 

Expressions like this can only be called challenges. 

"You and I aren't too dissimilar when one considers the subject," Shinguuji murmurs with a content smile. "I believe that all of us could have found a mirror of potential within you, Ouma-kun. To be one's opposite is simply your nature."

Kokichi considers those words. He swallows down a sudden heartbeat, "Romance sounds creepy coming from you."

If either of them are upset with that exchange, well, they certainly don't show it. Especially not when Kokichi finds himself on Shinguuji's bed. Mostly naked, wearing only his purposefully baggy shirt. He's tempted to make haughty remarks. Things about how the other man should feel grateful that Kokichi is giving him this honor. Or that tons of other people would kill for this glimpse. 

None of that is all too accurate though. Still, Kokichi allows himself to tantalizingly rub his legs together. He's laying on this bed like a treat. May as well watch how those eyes do linger- how Shinguuji gazes at him. The bed sheets are a mess of rich reds and browns in fun patterns. Kokichi smiles beguilingly while idling tracing a finger down them. 

Seductions are not his strong suit but fuck that too. Kokichi hasn't had this mix of anticipation and nerves since his first rollercoaster ride. 

He's a sensation junkie so-

"Do I have permission to tickle you?"

"Oh for fucks sake! Yes, yes I'd love it if you tickle me."

"And only the tickling?"

"I… ugh, edging is nice. Considering that that's ninety percent of my masturbation in general."

"Understood. I shall seek to fully unleash all of your inner beauty, and expose you to the completion you desire."

Flat groans, but Kokichi's eye don't roll so much as flee. His partner for night merely chuckles at him. Then fingers covered in soft bandages run up his body, displacing Kokichi's shirt, as of to inspect. Kokichi refuses to squirm even when his shirt is fully removed and tossed aside. It joins Shinguuji's clothing on the floor, scattered around the room. Nothing can hide the way Kokichi's body has grown just a bit too soft.

Words are left unsaid in favor of immediate action. A single finger trails down Kokichi's ribcage. He shudders at the touch, at how a slight localized dizziness builds up under his skin. That's the only way for him to describe it. Sensitivity, tingling, a strong pull blooming up from the slightest press. 

Itchy yet soft fabric swerves over to Kokichi's sides. Both hands are upon him now. The man's muscles tighten while Shinguuji's eyes observe him. Yellow and bright, they look like flowers in a garden. Just thinking is makes Kokichi grin- and he reaches up to feel those verdant lips. 

His hands have lipstick smears from wiping off his own mouth. Slowly, Kokichi wonders what kind of color Shinguuji would pick for him.

Purple eyes squeeze shut, lips doing the same, and the man finally wiggles against soft brown sheets. There is just a hint of a chortle in his throat. Slow and steady is the feeling of Shinguuji's determined hands. He's searching with out end for Kokichi's weakness. At least, that's what Kokichi himself figures. 

Shinguuji's lips are welcoming and soft. His body, bare save for the usual wrappings, is warm. Except that his fingers are suddenly dancing right above Kokichi's navel- to which the man makes a broken screeches. The sound is soon joined by a frenzy of giggles and squeals. It's intoxicating to experience this, being under someone while they make you behave like an idiot. 

"H-hwaaa! Eh, ehehenee-nhihiihihiii!" 

Light thrashing and spasms only assist Shinguuji's endeavors. All of the bandages and the pressure, mounting, are made unpredictable due to Kokichi's squirming. His anticipation remains even though his arms arm trembling. Sparks of dopamine flow across the Ultimate Supreme Leader's skin. 

Wide eyes roll back when one hand slides up towards an exposed armpit. Shinguuji's bandages and steady fingers tickle without mercy. 

No matter how light the touch, or slow, Kokichi is made to convulse and shriek. 

"P-please!" but he doesn't get to continue. Yellow eyes are burning while watching him, Shinguuji a spectator of Kokichi's most embarrassing passions. He can't escape being seen no matter what. 

Turning his head and closing his eyes won't erase how hard Kokichi is. He can barely tell the difference between the tickling and his arousal. Both have reached a point where both are intertwined. It's in that moment that Kokichi's eyes open. Shinguuji's own erection bobs between slim legs, balls softly hanging, and in a moment of pure insanity there's a thought; God I want that in my throat. 

Maybe it would be nice to try other things, Kokichi thinks. Getting to feel so comfortingly helpless-

Another strangled scream as those bursts of sensory feedback center on Kokichi's inner thigh. Yet his legs spread open in order to better accommodate Shinguuji. So close like this, sparking and tingling, but Kokichi's cock is ignored. Whatever pleasantness there was has become almost painful.

Kokichi's voice is deep and breathless, "Korekiyo just fucking… f-fu-fuck?! Fuck! Fuwah-hhhahaha-" 

Lungs cry out as the ability to inhale becomes an after thought. Shinguuji's cock is rubbing up against his own now. Kokichi screams his laughter, feeling one hand keeping him pinned against the bed. He can barely take the additional stipulation. But tickling really is what does it for him. It's like the most unfortunate curse in the world. 

Sweat runs down Kokichi's skin while his moans, laughter, and screeches combine. Korekiyo, or whatever he'd like to be called, merely pushes them both forward. He leans down and places those artwork lips against Kokichi's neck. Fingers trail up and down the other side. 

Other people might call this a reprive. 

The Ultimate Supreme Leader knows better even when his brain is buzzing, like the rest of him. He's ready for those fingers and their bandages. So much so that his neck is already twisting. Gentle lips ghost around the column of his neck, painting him, sending chills down his spine. Kokichi's fingers are claws against rich fabrics- his nails heraldic of a royal grip. Limbs and skin, sweaty hair, his heaving chest; Kokichi is far from still. 

He twists the sheets and his own body like a writhing doll, a grown man cackling while his cock drips relentlessly. 

Korekiyo captures the man's mouth will all the demure nature of an allegiance. As though they're two countries who have just combined, and Kokichi can't deny that he's heard a shit ton of weird historical facts lately. Perhaps all the sugary coffee has added to his brain problems. 

Or the lack of oxygen, maybe, Kokichi's floaty mind considers while his fist wacks the mattress. 

"No, noooo!" Kokichi whimpers while everything narrows into a pinprick. Then Korekiyo actually stops, garnering absolute fury, and after some oddly heartwarming hisses, "It's so much, so, h-hhhaaa! I'm-" 

Soft skin and scratchy bandages with lipstick all I've Kokichi's neck. 

That's what he's thinking about when his body stills. What his mind is flashing for him, Kokichi's jaw slack and the rest of him voiceless. Orgasm slams into him like a thousand shudders. It leaves him exhausted too, senseless, heat and pain building up until they explode. He feels like a nuclear reactor now. 

All limp and hypersensitive while Korekiyo whimpers the cutest moans into his ears. Kokichi's skin makes him shiver at each breath against his neck. When the other man cums, it makes him twitch. His muscles are tense and his stomach makes him overly aware of it- the heat of his partners semen. 

"Can… we do that again some time?" Kokichi eventually asks, being laid on like a five foot one inch pillow. 

Yellow eyes open up by just a crack, followed by a small kiss to the side of Kokichi's lips, "It was quite beautiful to see you display such, hm. Such a wide range of emotions. I would be most glad to experience it again."

Kokichi stares at the other man will slight disbelief. Then he huffs, grinning at how absurd Shinguuji can be even about this. He can't quite believe that this his his life now. Going from 'wow how awkward' to this is one hell of a trip. Definitely an enjoyable one though.

"You're totally right! I'm very, verrrry, beautiful," Kokichi croons. "And also please tell me that your bathroom isn't full of creepy stuff."

"Well. Hm."

"I'll just sleep..."


End file.
